


on a hot summer night

by darkangel0410



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Background Relationships, Biting, Knotting, Light BDSM, M/M, Mating Bond, Mpreg, NHL Trade(s), Rough Sex, Scenting, Sibling Incest, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:43:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22537885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel0410/pseuds/darkangel0410
Summary: Sometimes he’ll just be making a sandwich or watching a movie and he’ll just get hit with this urge to find Brady and beg him to fuck him, to make sure he knocks him up.It’s fucked up for a lot of reasons, not least that they're both still at the beginning of their careers, especially Brady, and Matt isn't in a hurry to stop playing for an extended amount of time, weird biological urges aside.So when it's mid-August and he still hasn't had his late summer heat, Matt's worried and pissed and fucking scared, but still a small part of him hopes that his alphafinallyknocked him up.
Relationships: Brady Tkachuk/Matthew Tkachuk
Comments: 6
Kudos: 127





	on a hot summer night

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here I am writing the fic I want to see more of in the world, enjoy!
> 
> See endnotes for a spoilery explanation of the trade tag.

It’s hard to explain, even to himself. During heats are one thing, he’s a mess of instincts and hormones then, nothing like a logical thought anywhere in his brain the whole time.

But sometimes he’ll just be making a sandwich or watching a movie and he’ll just get hit with this urge to find Brady and beg him to fuck him, to make sure he knocks him up.

It’s fucked up for a lot of reasons, not least that they're both still at the beginning of their careers, especially Brady, and Matt isn't in a hurry to stop playing for an extended amount of time, weird biological urges aside. 

So when it's mid-August and he still hasn't had his late summer heat, Matt's worried and pissed and fucking scared, but still a small part of him hopes that his alpha _finally_ knocked him up. 

*

Brady's back in St Louis for a few days to help Huggie pack up most of his stuff for training camp and to make sure they remembered to clean out the fridge in their apartment before they left earlier in the month. 

He'd joked about Matt's heat coming while he was gone, but he'd been reluctant to leave and Matt had to practically shove him out the door in the end. He'd been clingy the past week or so, too, almost as soon as they got to Matt's Calgary apartment: draping himself over Matt at every opportunity, scenting him every chance he got; crowding Matt and biting his bond-bite, eyeing any stranger they saw distrustfully. 

It wasn't normal for them, not by a long shot, because Brady could be possessive of him, sure, but he knew Matt could take care of himself and he thought watching Matt tell off strange alphas who hit on him was fucking hysterical, so herding him around and making sure no one came near him was so out of character that Matt's shocked he didn't notice it right away. 

And the fact that he was happy like that, that he wanted Brady to protect him and keep other people away from him worries Matt more than anything else because he's never wanted or needed anyone to fight his battles for him, and he's never been the type to hide behind anyone, not even Brady. 

Matt makes the appointment with the ob/gyn he uses in Calgary even though he's already pretty sure he's knocked up and texts Brady to tell him he needs him to come back early. 

_not my heat_, he sends, not really wanting to get into it over text but knowing if he doesn't elaborate at least a little bit Brady will assume it's his heat finally hitting. _it’s important but i'm not hurt_

Brady calls him not even ten minutes later, which Matt admits to himself he should have expected and he thinks about sending it to voicemail but knows it would just send Brady into a tailspin.

“What’s wrong?” Brady asks, the worry in his voice carrying easily over the phone; he sounds different to Matt, like there’s a growl trapped in his throat at the idea that something happened and he wasn’t there to protect Matt from it. “The earliest flight I can get out of here to Alberta is tonight at nine, unless I fly to Toronto and then over to you. That’s at five.”

Matt opens his mouth to tell Brady to just take the later flight, his appointment wasn’t until tomorrow so a few hours wait wouldn’t matter, but what comes out is, “Take the early one, I need you here as soon as possible.”

There’s a long pause and when Brady speaks again, he sounds like he’s five seconds from shifting and running back if that would be quicker. “Baby, what happened? Did the apartment catch on fire or something? Did someone hurt you?”

There’s definitely a growl in his voice now, angry and possessive, more wolf than human, and Matt hears Huggie in the background asking what’s wrong, and he hopes there’s no humans close by because Brady probably looks like he’s ready to kill someone right now.

“No, dumbfuck, I’m fine, I just,” Matt takes a deep breath and tries to settle himself, not knowing how to deal with feeling like he needs his alpha within touching distance of him at all times; he’s never been this needy, not even during his heats, and it’s starting to freak him out. “Shit, Brady, I think I might be knocked up.”

“You,” Brady starts to say and then stops; Matt doesn’t say anything, either, just lets Brady process everything, even if silence is the last thing he wants to listen to at this point. 

It seems like the silence stretches out for at least a half hour, even though Matt knows it’s probably closer to a minute or two, maybe five at the most. He feels like he’s going to throw up, nausea mixing with the anxiety that’s shown up in flashes since Brady’s been gone and Matt really hopes this stops soon.

“I,” Brady’s clears his throat and when he goes on, his voice is quiet, shy in a way he’s never been, but there’s something warm to it, hopeful almost, like maybe this isn’t the worst news he could have gotten. “A cub? Really?”

“Yeah, I, uh, think so,” Matt tells him, a small smile on his face. “I won’t know for sure until the doctor’s appointment tomorrow, but I’m pretty sure.”

“Matt,” Brady says and now he sounds completely choked up, and there's so much love and affection in that one word that Matt feels like he's going to start tearing up. “I'll be home as soon as I can, baby, I promise.”

Matt's never been good with words or articulating how he feels, but there's a reason why Brady's always been the only alpha he's wanted for more than a quick knot once in a while, so Matt knows Brady gets everything he's trying to say when he purrs over the phone for his alpha, loud and brash and loving. 

*

Brady wakes Matt up when he comes home and slides into bed behind him, wraps himself around Matt, scenting Matt's shoulder and neck, one big hand resting on Matt's still flat stomach; he's not sure what time it is, just that it's dark and quiet in their bedroom and his alpha is finally back with him, he's warm and happy and safe. 

“I love you so much, baby,” Brady says in between pressing soft kisses to every piece of skin he can reach, “you're the best omega ever, the only one I ever wanted.”

Matt purrs happily still half-asleep and it's easy to tangle his fingers with Brady's before he closes his eyes and lets Brady's voice lull him back to sleep. 

*

The second time Matt wakes up, Brady's still wrapped around him and Matt can see the glow of Brady’s phone from the corner of his eye; Matt rolls over onto his back and stretches, grins when Brady puts his phone down and props his chin on his hand so he can watch Matt move with obvious interest.

“What time is it?” Matt asks once he settles back onto the bed; he tips his head back, so Brady can scent him properly. Brady takes the hint and rubs his cheek along Matt’s jaw, drags his teeth down Matt’s throat before he bites gently at his bond-bite. 

Matt moans softly and fists his hand in Brady’s hair to hold him there; they’re not even doing anything yet, it’s barely foreplay, but Matt feels himself wetting his boxers, the need of wanting to be fucked settling into his muscles and the ache of being empty makes him whine low in his throat.

“Fuck, you smell so good, baby,” Brady tells him, scenting Matt’s throat again before he starts pressing biting kisses on the bared skin; he keeps going back to Matt’s bond-bite to worry at it with his teeth, like he needs to hear more of the noises Matt lets out every time he does. “I missed you,” he adds, kissing Matt roughly before he gets up.

Matt growls at him in frustration, aggravated that Brady wasn’t pressed skin to skin with him still; Brady smirks at him while he strips and it makes Matt narrow his eyes before he peels his boxers off and leans back on the bed, takes his cock in hand and slowly starts stroking himself. “Guess I can just take care of myself,” Matt says, only half-faking the breathy moan he lets out when he rubs his thumb over the head of his cock. 

He spreads his legs, so he’s open and vulnerable to Brady’s gaze, and stops jerking himself off so he can run his fingers through the slick that’s smeared on the inside of his upper thighs before he moves to press the tips of his fingers against his hole. It’s a bad angle, awkward and annoying if he was actually trying to get himself off, but it’s worth the momentary discomfort for the way Brady’s eyes bleed over to yellow and he hurries through taking off his own clothes so he can get back to Matt.

Brady grabs Matt's wrists and pins them to the bed with a growl, his canines wolf-sharp when he kisses Matt; he growls back and bites at Brady’s lip, his own teeth shifted to match his alpha’s. “Mine,” Brady tells him before he scrapes his teeth down Matt’s throat; it hurts, Brady’s teeth leaving thin red welts against the delicate skin, but it’s the kind of pain Matt loves with his sex, the kind that makes everything sharper, _better_. Brady’s the only alpha who’s ever understood that about him, the only one who cared enough to learn it. 

“Yours,” Matt agrees eagerly, his voice rough even to his own ears. He can feel Brady hard and thick against his ass, sliding in the slick leaking out of his hole, and it's so close to where he wants him, _needs_ him, that he snarls because Brady’s not moving fast enough to suit him.

Brady bites down on his bond-bite again, hard enough to bruise the skin this time, and it makes Matt moan loudly, pain spiked pleasure pooling in his stomach and it’s right on the edge of too much that he loves. 

They fuck with Matt on his back, legs wrapped around Brady's waist and Brady's hand tight in his hair while he fucks into Matt with short, almost brutal thrusts that make Matt dig his claws into Brady's shoulders and demand more; Brady bites bruises onto Matt's neck, along his jawline and growls in approval when Matt moans loudly.

It doesn't last long, they're both too worked up for that, and all it takes is Brady biting down on his neck and shifting their bodies so Brady can wrap his hand around Matt's dick and squeezing for Matt to come, eyes closed and almost crying with how overwhelming and amazing it feels. 

He feels Brady coming, his knot filling Matt up and making him him whine, loving the feeling of too much that tips over into pain, and it's a few minutes after that before he can focus.

Brady kisses Matt again, soft and sweet, before he pulls back and scents Matt’s throat, pressing another kiss to the underside of Matt’s jaw and then on his bond-bite; usually Brady would be collapsed on top of him by now, half out of it until his knot went down and they weren’t tied together any more, but he’s still propped up on his elbows, clearly trying to keep some of his weight off of Matt.

It takes him a few seconds to realize _why_ Brady’s doing it and once he figures it out, Matt’s torn between being annoyed that Brady’s treating him like he’s some kind of delicate omega all of sudden and finding it weirdly sweet that Brady’s afraid he’s going to hurt the cub by laying on top of him. 

“Come on, stop,” Matt tells Brady and pulls his hair to get his attention; Matt knows he sounds ridiculous, his voice still more than half purr and he’s not ashamed that he’s pissy about having to talk during his afterglow. “You’re being weird, asshole.”

“Am not,” Brady mutters, half-heartedly growling when Matt yanks on his hair again, but settles down on top of Matt and nuzzles his throat, his bulk a comforting weight on top of him that Matt misses when they’re not together.

“I would tell you if it was too much,” Matt says after a few seconds, his voice serious, “and maybe we won’t be able to lie like this later on, but it’s ok for now. I’ll tell you if it gets uncomfortable or anything,” Matt promises him. 

Brady loses the last little bit of tension that was in his body and relaxes completely on top of Matt. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Brady confesses, his voice muffled by where it’s pressed against Matt’s throat. “Or the cub,” he adds, his voice almost a whisper, like he was afraid to speak about it until they were sure.

“You won't,” Matt reassures him, running his fingers through Brady's hair. “I'll kick your ass if you ever do,” he goes on, trying to lighten the mood a little bit. 

Brady laughs and presses a quick kiss to Matt's bond-bite before he settles back down on top of Matt, growling happily when Matt starts to purr again. 

*

They get up late the next morning and trade lazy handjobs in the shower while they make-out under the hot water; it’s not a bad start to the day, even if it means they have to stop to get coffee and some bagels instead of eating at the apartment before they leave.

The doctor’s office is the same as Matt remembers it, beige walls and open windows with a pile of colorful toys in one corner for any cubs that might be with their parents.

It’s mostly empty and the few people there don’t seem to recognize either one of them; Matt’s grateful for it, usually he wouldn’t mind talking hockey to fans and signing autographs, but he’s nauseous again and the idea of making small talk with strangers makes him want to run and hide. 

Brady's sitting as close to him as he can manage in the waiting room chairs, his leg presses against Matt's, a warm point of contact that makes Matt feel a little more settled. 

It feels like hours later when a nurse finally calls them into the back to see the doctor; he asks Matt some questions and notes down the answers on a clipboard while Matt stands on a scale to get weighed, then ushered into the exam room to take his blood pressure.

Brady hovers the entire time, never more than a few inches away from Matt, like he's afraid Matt's going to get hurt sitting on an exam table; he gets in the way more than once and growls at the nurse when he tells Brady to back up a couple steps so he can move around Matt easier. 

"Brady," Matt hisses and tries to ignore the way he wants to reach out and drag Brady closer to him; he really hopes all this hormone bullshit stops soon because he's starting to get really annoyed. "Chill the fuck out before I punch you."

"Sorry," Brady says sheepishly and steps back; he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and tries to look as apologetic as possible.

"Don't worry about it," the nurse tells them cheerfully as he takes Matt's blood pressure and pulse; he's a beta, but he's careful to keep the number of times he touches Matt's bare skin to a minimum. 

It's the kind of bullshit that usually pisses Matt off but he's grateful for it right now because not only is the thought of having a stranger's scent on his skin, beta or not, making him nauseous, Matt doesn't know how Brady would react to it and the last thing he wants to deal with is trying to keep Brady calm while he feels so off.

"Most alphas are a little, ah, protective when their omegas are pregnant, especially if it's their first one," the nurse adds and rolls his eyes when Brady steps forward and then backs away again. "At least you're not punching anyone yet," he goes on and shares a smile with Matt when Brady swallows another growl because he thinks it's been too long since he's touched Matt.

He writes something on the chart then closes it and puts the clipboard on the holder on the outside of the door. "Doctor should be with you soon, have a good one."

The door isn't even closed all the way before Brady's reaching for him and wrapping his hand around Matt's neck; sitting on the table means Matt's almost the same height as Brady and it's easy for Brady to lean down and scent him, rub his cheek along Matt's jaw before he presses a quick kiss to the corner of Matt's mouth and straightens up.

“Sorry about the growling,” Brady apologizes after a couple minutes; he sounds sincere but he doesn’t move his hand from where it’s curled around the back of Matt’s neck. It’s a warm, comforting weight that Matt’s not in a hurry to get rid of. “I didn’t think I’d get so, uh, weird about someone else going near you.”

“Yeah, well, you better get used to it,” Matt tells him, cranky because he already feels like he needs a nap; he relaxes into Brady’s hold, though, using his body language to tell Brady he’s not mad at him. 

Brady hums in understanding and rubs his thumb soothingly against Matt’s skin, keeps his gaze on the door, like he’s half-afraid someone’s going to burst through it and attack them; Matt rolls his eyes but doesn’t chirp him about it.

He thinks it’s kind of endearing, if he’s going to be honest, but he doesn’t say _that_, either, because it’s so sappy that if he did, Brady would think he was dying or something and the last thing Matt wants right now is Brady going off the deep end.

It’s quiet while they wait for the doctor to come in, content to just be with each other without talking for a little bit; Matt’s not usually one to go long without saying _something_, but he feels calm and relaxed with Brady like this next to him.

At some point while they’re waiting, the press of Brady’s hand on the back of his neck switches from calming and relaxing Matt to making him shift restlessly, every sweep of Brady’s thumb against his skin making desire pool in his stomach and need press down on him; he tries to stop himself from saying anything, digs his nails into his own legs so he doesn’t reach for his alpha.

The tiny pinpricks of dull pain are enough to make Matt bite back a moan, slick leaking out of his hole and making him wet his boxers; Brady’s scent is thick in the room, heavy on Matt’s tongue: familiar and loved and everything that Matt’s ever wanted.

Even as Matt tries to tell himself there’s no way he’s going to get turned on at the doctor’s office, Brady inhales sharply and turns to look down at him, his hand tightening on Matt’s neck until Matt can’t help the low whine he lets out, needy and submissive, his hands reaching for Brady before he even registers thinking about it.

A knock on the door breaks the mood and Matt shakes off Brady’s hand, then stares up at the ceiling and tries to get his equilibrium back; Brady growls softly, but cuts himself off and takes a deep breath before he takes a couple of small steps away from Matt.

“Come in,” Matt says a few seconds later, tries to smile politely when his doctor comes in the room with a clipboard; she places it on the counter and washes her hands before she pulls a stool over to sit next to the exam table.

“Hello, Matthew, how are you today?” Dr Janna asks pleasantly, reaching over to grab the clipboard and looking it over; she’s in her mid-40’s and long mated if her scent is anything to go by. Matt’s always liked her, she didn’t put up with anyone’s shit that he could tell and wasn’t afraid to tell him exactly what she thought. “Would you be more comfortable if we spoke by ourselves?” she asks him softly when Matt doesn’t say anything right away.

Brady keeps quiet, and for once his face isn’t giving anything away, but his scent goes intensely sharp right away: ammonia layered over mold, and it tells Matt exactly how anxious the question makes him feel.

Matt’s not fond of the idea, either, his own anxiety makes his stomach go queasy at the thought and he can only imagine what his own scent is putting off. “No, ma’am, I want Brady here,” he assures her and grins at the way she eyes Brady, like he barely passes muster before nodding and turning back to him.

“That’s fine then, Matthew. What brings you by today?”

“I, uh,” Matt pauses to steady himself and instinctively offers his wrist to Brady, needing the contact with his alpha; Brady wraps his hand around it immediately and squeezes once in reassurance. It settles Matt enough to go on, “I noticed yesterday that I haven’t had my late summer heat yet and I’m always pretty regular, so I thought, maybe I might be knocked up.”

The doctor makes a considering noise and nods, flips through the pages in front of her. “That’s always a possibility, yes. I see you're still on the shot, but this wouldn't be the first time someone’s birth control failed them. Is there anything else that makes you think you might be pregnant?”

"I'm a lot more clingy than I would be outside of my heat," Matt says and tries to be nonchalant about it, like it doesn't freak him out some. "I get anxious if I can't touch Brady sometimes and I've been feeling sick for the past few days. 

"Brady's been more of a knothead than usual, he's growling at anyone who comes near me, even betas," Matt glances at Brady and grins when he rolls his eyes. "It doesn't bother me as much as it usually would, either," he adds, still annoyed at himself about it.

"He smells different," Brady blurts out before the doctor can say anything; he flushes a little bit when she raises her eyebrow at him but goes on, "his scent's stronger, not like his heat-scent, it's lighter than that. It's almost like he's rolling around in baby powder and flowers all the time. I, uh, didn't notice it at first, but I think it's been getting stronger for the last month or so.

"It makes my wolf want to attack anyone who comes near him."

"Most alphas get more protective as the pregnancy goes along, especially when it's their first cub," she tells them with a slight nod. "So I'm not surprised to hear that you're getting more possessive of Matthew and wary of strangers being around him. I will caution you both to try and keep an eye on that behavior, because there are some cases where it goes to extremes and people have been seriously injured. Just be as aware of your behavior patterns as you can and go to a doctor if either of you become concerned about it.

"Well, Matthew, all signs point to you being pregnant, but let's do a quick test to make sure," she gets up and goes through the cabinets until she pulls out a plastic cup and a pregnancy test; she takes a marker out of the pocket in her doctor's coat and writes his whole name on it before she hands to him. "Why don't you go ahead and pee in that for me, the bathroom's down the hall, the second door on the left. It'll only take a few minutes to confirm if you're expecting or not. Then we can come up with a plan of action for what you want to do next.

"Brady can stay here with me," Janna adds, amused but firm when Brady takes a step towards the door.

Brady squeezes his wrist once more and then lets go, but he doesn't look happy about it; the look on his face makes Matt smile, in spite of the way his stomach starts rolling again when Brady's scent gets an anxious edge to it.

It doesn’t take long and he’s back in the exam room in less than five minutes; Brady relaxes a little bit when Matt comes in, and his scent evens out, too, like until that moment he was afraid Matt was going to pull a runner. 

The rest of the appointment takes about thirty minutes and when they leave, they have a pile of paperwork to read and another appointment in two weeks for an ultrasound.

They're both quieter than normal, sitting in the car afterwards and almost shell-shocked with the certain knowledge that they were going to be parents. Brady's scent is normal, mostly, a little mildew around the edges that tells Matt he's worried about something but over it all is the warm sunshine smell of happiness and it settles Matt a little bit. 

He reaches over and laces his fingers with Brady's and squeezes them; Brady smiles at him, bright and happy, leans over to kiss him for a few seconds then pulls back enough to rub his cheek over Matt's, presses his nose to Matt's throat and inhales his scent. Brady sighs contentedly when Matt turns and nudges his nose against Brady's jaw and scents him back.

They stay like that, quiet and happy and nervous, breathing in each other's air, for a long time, content to just be with each other.

*

They go for a run before they go back to the apartment, pulling off at the small nondescript parking lot that marks the start of the running trails and hunting territory that visiting and, occasionally, local wolves used if they didn't have any pack land.

It feels good to run with his mate, to sing to the moon together, to thank Her for what She's given them and know She hears them even if She's not visible yet; they hunt together, too, flushing out a large rabbit that Brady delivers the killing blow to and proudly lays at Matt's paws for him to eat.

Matt nuzzles Brady's jaw in thanks and then makes short work of the rabbit, cheerfully crunching the bones between his sharp teeth after he eats all the meat. Brady licks him clean when he's done, makes sure all the blood is out of his fur before he curls up around Matt for a nap.

Matt yawns and then makes a happy chuffing noise as he settles down to sleep; Brady stays awake, alert for anything that could try to hurt his mate and their cub.

*

It's late afternoon when they get back and Matt leaves Brady in the kitchen looking through the fridge and muttering about calling for pizza to go call Treliving and set up a meeting for the next day. 

After he talks to him and assures him it's nothing illegal or an emergency, they set up a time for the next afternoon, and when they hang up, Matt brings up the team's groupchat; it's mostly dead, the team busy with their individual summer vacations and training schedules, and he hesitates for a good five minutes, unsure what to tell them.

Matt finally settles on, _hey gonna be out of the lineup for the first part of the season_ and a string of baby emojis before he closes it, and puts his phone on the charger.

He stretches and yawns, the idea of a nap extremely appealing to him even though he already took one not that long ago; he crawls under the blankets and buries his face in the pillow Brady used last night, his alpha's scent helping him doze off.

Matt's vaguely aware of Brady coming in the room and curling up around him but he passes out a few seconds later.

*

"When do you want to tell mom and dad?" Brady asks over breakfast the next morning; they're in the kitchen, sitting at the small table in the middle of the room.

Matt makes a face and finishes all the bacon on his plate before he answers. "Soon, probably, before they hear it from someone else. I told the team last night, so," he shrugs and reaches for the bacon that's still on Brady's plate; Brady nudges the plate closer to Matt without even chirping him about still being hungry. "Dad's going to be pissed," he adds around another mouthful of food and looks mournfully at the eggs and toast still untouched on Brady's plate.

Brady hands it all over and leans back in his chair, hooks his ankle around Matt's in reassurance. "Maybe a little bit, but you know he'll come around fast. He loves cubs and it's not like we're still in high school or anything.

"Besides, mom will kick his ass if he's too dumb," Brady tells him, his scent even and calm; Matt nods half-heartedly, feeling a little bit better about it, even if he still thinks it's going to turn into a circus.

"I guess we should tell them tonight," he finally offers after they're done putting the dishes in the sink and getting ready to head out.

Brady crowds him up against the wall by the front door, scents his neck and kisses him until Matt's ready to forget all about going to see Treliving and wants to drag Brady back into bed for the next hour or so.

"It'll be ok," Brady says when he finally pulls back for air; he bites Matt's jaw and then steps away from him completely so they can finish getting their shoes on and leave.

They get into a small argument in the parking lot of the arena and it takes Matt baring his teeth and growling for Brady to back off and grudgingly agree to wait in the car while Matt goes in to talk to Treliving.

Matt doesn't much want to go by himself, either, but he knows eventually Brady's going to go back to Ottawa and he's going to have to get used to doing things without Brady hovering over him.

It goes about as well as expected at first: it's still summer, so no one else is really back yet and it doesn't take long to find Treliving in one of the coaches offices; they make small talk for a few minutes, talking about their summers and the upcoming season. 

It's fine until Matt tells him that he's pregnant and then Treliving blinks at him a couple times, seemingly at a loss for words; Matt forgets he's a human sometimes, but it's never been more obvious than now, watching him try to work out what's going on. Matt can see the moment when he remembers that Matt's a wolf.

"Well, congratulations, Matt," Treliving tells him, sincere if a little bemused by the idea. "We'll have to go through the medical side of it with the trainers and everyone else, but I'm sure that won't be too complicated. Please let us know if there's anything we can do to help."

"Thanks," Matt says and relaxes a little, reassured by the words and tone. "Everything's ok right now and Brady's still here for the next few weeks so I'm not alone."

There's another lengthy pause in the conversation while Treliving tries to figure something else out. "Brady?" he finally asks, confusion evident in his voice. 

“My mate,” Matt tells him; he’s not sure what’s so confusing about it, Brady’s on all his paperwork as his mate and has been since Brady was eighteen. “Tkachuk,” he adds when Treliving still looks lost.

“Your brother?” Treliving says and now there’s surprise coloring his voice, too. “He’s the other father?”

“Yeah, he’s my mate,” Matt repeats with a small laugh, “who else would it be?” 

Treliving nods absently, his forehead creased in thought and it's not long after that that the meeting ends; they shake hands and Treliving tells him he'll see him at training camp, but he looks distracted to Matt, like he remembers something else he'd rather be doing.

Matt mentally shrugs it off as some weird human thing and he's whistling cheerfully when he opens the passenger door; Brady looks him over out of the corner of his eye when Matt drops into the seat and demands stopping somewhere for food before they get to the apartment.

Brady chirps him about eating too much, but it's affectionate and teasing, he's calm and relaxed when they pull out of the parking spot, content to go wherever Matt tells him to.

*

Telling their parents ends up being pretty easy: they call them on facetime after dinner, his and Brady's faces squished together so they're both in frame at the same time; mom cries, but she's smiling the whole time and calling Taryn downstairs to tell her the good news. Their dad's more reserved: his smile is genuinely happy but he looks worried, too, and Matt knows he's thinking about both his and Brady's careers and what this will mean for them going forward. 

Matt relaxes when dad starts teasing them about cubs using their walls as scratching posts and promises this cub couldn't be as bad as they themselves were as toddlers; by the time Taryn grabs the phone out of their mom's hands and demands to be made god-mother, Matt's mostly forgotten that he was ever worried.

*

"Did you tell anyone yet?" Matt asks when they're in bed later on; he's on his stomach, face pressed against Brady's pillow and legs spread to make room for Brady who's still kneeling between them.

There's come drying on the back of his thighs, as well as on his stomach and the sheets underneath him; Matt knows he should get up and take a shower or at the very least tell Brady to go get a washcloth, but he's comfortable and half-asleep, content to just lay here for a while.

Brady playfully bites Matt's ass, then laughs when he growls at him. "Just Huggie," Brady answers absently and presses kisses up the line of Matt's back; Matt shivers when he starts using his teeth, each bite harder than the last.

He sinks his teeth into Matt's shoulder at the same time he starts teasing Matt's rim with the tips of his fingers; Matt's still wet from Brady's come and now his own slick leaking out of his hole and onto his thighs, but that doesn't stop Matt from whining and trying to get to his knees so he has some leverage to force Brady's fingers deeper inside him.

"No," Brady says, the slightest hint of alpha-command in his voice, "stay down."

Matt squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to pant at the way even just the suggestion of alpha-command makes his body light up, eager to be told what to do; Brady places his hand in the middle of his back and presses down, uses enough of his strength to keep Matt pinned where he wants him.

"Look at you," Brady tells him, voice low, "all fucked out and used, and you still want more.

"You're so easy for it, aren't you, baby," he goes on, pushing his fingers all the way inside Matt and pressing against his prostate. "Such a slut for my knot, I bet you'd do whatever I told you as long as it meant I'd fuck you after."

"Please," Matt begs and tries to move, to do anything to relieve the ache of being empty that's settling into his body; it feels like days since he’s been fucked instead of the handful of minutes it’s really been. “Brady, please, I _need_ you.”

Matt loves being fucked, loves being stretched wide by Brady’s knot, but being this desperate so fast is usually something that only happens during his heat, not on a random night not long after they've just got done fucking; it would be more disconcerting if Matt wasn't so focused on how empty he is once Brady's fingers aren't in him any more.

"Hold on, baby," Brady soothes when Matt whines; Matt feels the mattress shift when Brady moves a little bit, then his hands are on Matt's hips, urging him up enough to get his knees under him. "You look so good like this," Brady goes on, runs a hand over Matt's ass before giving him a playful smack. "Open and ready and begging for my knot without even saying anything."

Matt opens his mouth to growl or curse or beg even more, whatever will get Brady to fuck him _right now_, but before he says anything, Brady pushes into him, thick and hard, and whatever words Matt was going to use gets lost in the low moan he makes at finally being filled again; Brady feels huge inside of him, even bigger than normal to Matt's over sensitive body, and he can't help the noises he lets out every time Brady's cock rubs against his prostate.

Brady's hand is tight in Matt's hair, keeping Matt's face pressed to the bed while he fucks him with deep, measured thrusts that seem to go on forever; he loses track of time, overwhelmed by the pain spiked pleasure of being fucked again, every shift of Brady's hips driving him even further under.

Matt's not sure how long it's been when he blinks his eyes open sometime later, he's on his side, Brady curled up around him, his knot still thick inside Matt; he nudges his nose against the back of Matt's neck, presses a soft kiss there and makes a happy rumbling noise when Matt grabs his hand. "Hey, baby, you back now?"

Matt doesn't answer aloud, just moves Brady's hand so he can slip two of Brady's fingers into his mouth and suck on them while he tips his head to the side, flashing as much of his neck as he can in this position; he's hard again and he wants to come again eventually, but it's secondary to the desire to stay under, to be vulnerable and let Brady take care of him, to let him do whatever he wants.

"Fuck," Brady growls, his hips twitching forward, instinct telling him to fuck his omega even when they're already tied together; Matt whines around Brady's fingers when Brady bites his neck, then licks the marks his teeth left in Matt's skin. "You're so good for me, baby," Brady goes on, his voice low and rough; he wraps his other arm around Matt's waist and pulls him an inch or two closer so he can hitch his own hips up to a better angle and press his knot up against Matt's prostate, makes a pleased noise when Matt moans around his fingers.

"So good," Brady repeats, the alpha-command in his voice makes it seem deeper to Matt, it cuts through the haze he's in and makes every part of his body spring to attention, eager to do whatever his alpha tells him to do; Matt waits for Brady's next words, body almost tense until Brady speaks again. "Go on and come for me, baby, you deserve it."

Matt whines, the sound muffled by Brady's fingers still in his mouth, and closes his eyes, his whole body lit up in intense pleasure that seems to go on for hours, but is probably only a few minutes and then he relaxes in a rush, completely wrung out; Brady kisses his neck again and chuckles when Matt bites his fingers after he tries to move them from Matt's mouth.

“Let go of my fingers, baby,” Brady orders, the alpha-command still thrumming in his voice and Matt obeys before he even registers what was said; Brady slides his hand down to Matt’s chest and pinches his nipple, digs his nails into the sensitive skin until Matt whines.

“Alpha, _please_,” Matt begs, the words slurring together, awkward and clumsy on his tongue, as Brady keeps pinching and playing with his nipples.

He doesn’t know what he wants exactly, just that Brady will give it to him like he always does.

“Go on, baby,” Brady croons, voice soft in spite of the command still there, “let me take care of you, you can go back under like I know you want to.”

It’s easy to listen to him, to do what Brady tells him to, especially when it’s exactly what he wants, too.

*

Matt wakes up the next morning still pleasantly sore, his shoulders aching enough that he knows without finding a mirror that Brady spent a lot of time biting and marking him up while he was out of it; it sends a thrill down his spine that Brady knows him so well, knows that Matt loves being marked up, loves having the reminder of what they did on his body for as long as possible.

He hears Brady in the kitchen moving around and debates just staying in bed for the rest of the morning but his stomach growls and decides for him, so he gets out of bed and puts on a pair of shorts before he wanders into the kitchen to find food; he grabs his phone as he walks past the nightstand and goes through his notifications before putting it in his pocket.

Brady's standing in front of the fridge when Matt walks into the kitchen; he glances over his shoulder and smirks, the possessive look on his face never fails to make Matt preen, even if he plays it off by rolling his eyes and punching Brady in the shoulder. 

"Is there anything good to eat?" Matt asks as he tries to look around Brady's bulk into the fridge; it's pretty bare, really only some orange juice on the shelf and whatever is still in the drawers or the door, Matt's not even sure any of it's still good.

He grabs the bottle and squints at the expiration date before he winces and turns to toss it in the trash.

"We need to go shopping," Brady tells him, making a face at whatever he sees still in there. "And maybe get a new fridge," he adds, gagging slightly as he pulls a bag of slowly rotting fruit from the drawer and throws it out.

"Gross," Matt says and has to breathe through his mouth for a few seconds until the wave of nausea that the smell brings on passes. He walks over to the table and waves off Brady when he looks over at him; Brady doesn't look happy, but he stays where he's at and gives Matt the space he asks for.

Brady drags the garbage can over and starts cleaning the fridge out with the kind of single-minded stubbornness that usually only showed up on the ice; Matt's happy to leave him to it, going through instagram a few times and answering questions in the team chat.

Brady closes the fridge with an annoyed growl just as Matt's phone goes off and it takes a few seconds for it to register that Dave's calling his phone; he feels a sliver of unease at why his agent would be calling him in August when it wasn't a contract year, but he pushes it aside and answers. "Hello?"

"Matthew," Dave says, his voice as calm as it usually was; Matt figures he could be in the middle of a gun fight and still sound unruffled. "I just got a call from Brad Treliving and he's traded you to the Sabres -"

Matt's mind blanks out and whatever else Dave's saying gets lost in the almost loud haze that fills his head; he's distantly aware that he drops his phone to the ground and that Brady immediately comes to his side, but it's in the background, separate from him and it's not until his vision goes white around the edges that he realizes he's having a panic attack.

"Matt, baby, I need you to breathe for me," Brady coaxes, his hand wrapped around the back of Matt's neck, tight and grounding; he moves Matt around into a chair and presses his head to the table, the cool wood soothing on Matt's warm skin. "Take a deep breath," he goes on, the alpha-command in it giving Matt an idea of how freaked out Brady was right now; it wasn't something Brady did outside of sex and even then it was only when Matt needed him to that he used it. 

All of it makes Matt suck in a deep, shuddering breath and let it back out again; he tries to concentrate on Brady's body right next to his, on the hand wrapped around his neck, Brady's voice in his ear, instead of the fact that his team didn't want him any more. 

"There you go, baby, that's perfect," Brady praises him, "take another deep breath for me.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Matt makes a distressed noise that he's pretty sure would embarrass him under any other circumstances, it's a relief when Brady squeezes his neck and picks up the phone to talk to Dave himself.

"Hey, it's Brady, what happened?"

He's quiet for a few seconds and then anger washes out his scent and he looks _furious_; Matt knows none of Brady's anger is for him but he still wants to press close to Brady, placate him until he's happy again. 

"What do you mean they traded him?" Brady growls, his eyes bleeding over to yellow; his hand stays steady around Matt's neck, just the right amount of pressure to help Matt get his equilibrium back. His wolf's close to the surface, but Matt knows Brady has it under control. "He had eighty-seven points last year, do they think some scrub from juniors is going to be able to do that for them?"

He's quiet for another couple seconds and then annoyance starts threading through his scent, burnt ashes over pepper. "No shit, he's upset, I think getting traded while he's pregnant is a good enough reason -"

Matt cautiously sits up, relieved when his vision stays even and he doesn't get dizzy or nauseous; Brad glances at him but doesn't say or do anything else, just focuses on the conversation he's having and keeps his hand on the back of Matt's neck.

"Of course he fucking told them," Brady snarls, anger makes him bite off the words impatiently. "I drove him there myself the other day, before we even told our parents."

Brady runs his thumb soothingly against Matt's pulse when he bites back the whine he wants to let out; he's upset, but that was slowly giving away to anger and that was something Matt knew how to deal with: Matt wasn't going to let this derail him or fuck up his career, he was going to go to Buffalo and kick ass, and fuck Treliving for not believing in him.

Brady hangs up and immediately reaches for Matt, pulls him onto his lap; Matt lets Brady manhandle him and presses his nose to Brady's throat, breathes in Brady's scent and lets himself be upset about the trade for a little while longer.

After a few more seconds Matt sighs and nudges his nose against Brady’s jaw, wanting reassurance from his alpha; Brady moves his hands so they frame Matt’s face, tilts Matt’s head to the side and rubs his cheek against Matt’s jaw, runs his nose down the length of Matt’s neck and presses a soft kiss to his bond-bite. “Fuck the Flames,” Brady says against Matt’s skin; Matt feels the growl still in Brady’s voice, vibrating against his throat like it was taking all Brady’s self-control to stay here and not shift into his wolf-skin and hunt down whoever hurt his mate.

"It's closer to Ottawa," Matt tells him eventually, probably the best thing that Buffalo had going for it at this point if Matt was going to be honest; he knows eventually the Sabres will be his team, that he'll love playing for them, but he figures it's alright if he takes comfort from the fact that it brings him near his mate right now.

Brady hums, nudges his nose against Matt's jaw again before he pulls back enough to look at him. "It is," he agrees and his scent lightens up a little bit at the words, even if Brady still looks angry. "But still, fuck Treliving, he's dumber than a drunk rabbit if he doesn't realize you're better than whoever the fuck Buffalo gave him for you."

Brady drops his hands down to Matt's hips, squeezes comfortingly. "You want to go get something to eat and go for a run?"

"Yeah," Matt says and takes a couple seconds to rest his forehead on Brady's shoulder before he shifts back and stands up. "Let me text dad first before he hears about the trade from some reporter." 

"I'm gonna take that trash out before we leave," Brady decides, "it's completely gross and I don't want you smelling that shit."

Matt rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything, just reaches for his phone on the table and drops back down into the chair Brady just left; it _was_ gross and the kitchen already smelled better with it gone.

He's only half paying attention when Brady comes back in the room, most of his focus on all the texts and messages he's getting since news of the trade breaks; Brady ruffles his hair and snickers when Matt absentmindedly growls at him.

He hears Brady's phone go off and Brady's confused greeting but doesn't look up until his scent goes bright with surprise and Brady says, "They traded me to where?!" with sheer, misplaced delight.

"Yeah, that's great, I'll call you back," Brady says and drops his phone on the counter and strides towards Matt, warm sunlight and roses covering his scent.

He gapes up at Brady as he shoves the kitchen table to the side and hauls Matt up into his arms; Matt drops his own phone, automatically grabbing onto Brady’s shoulders and wrapping his legs around Brady’s waist. And it’s not like Matt ever forgets how big Brady is, how much of his bulk is all muscle and how much _stronger_ he is than Matt.

But there’s knowing and then there’s having Brady haul him up off a chair, hold him up like it was nothing and still manage to keep them both upright the whole time; Matt thinks he can be forgiven for how breathless he sounds when he says his alpha’s name.

“They traded me to Buffalo,” Brady growls, his voice vibrating with joy this time instead of the anger of a half hour ago; he threads his hand through Matt’s hair, holds him still while he bites his mouth and kisses him roughly, his other arm around Matt’s waist keeping him steady. “Buffalo, baby,” he repeats, walking the few feet until Matt’s back thumps against the wall, Brady’s hand in his hair tightens and he tilts his head to the side so Brady can bite his neck.

It takes a couple of seconds for his words to work past the desire pounding through Matt’s body, but when he realizes -when he _understands_\- what Brady's saying, Matt pulls on his hair until Brady raises his head and then crashes their mouths together. 

Matt yanks at Brady's shirt, his claws sliding out and shredding the material in his haste to get his mate naked; his wolf is close to the surface, the emotions of the past hour making him feel almost out of control.

Brady pulls back enough that Matt can see his teeth are wolf-sharp when he snarls in annoyance at Matt's clothes for not just disappearing when he wants them gone; Matt bites Brady's jaw to hurry him up, digs his claws into Brady's back when he hitches Matt's leg up higher on his waist.

They fuck against the wall, their clothes in pieces around them; it's so good, Brady hard and thick inside him, the knowledge that they were going to be able to raise their cub together, to play together, it makes everything sharper, brighter.

It takes some careful maneuvering, but they end up sitting on the floor, Brady's back to the wall and Matt almost boneless in his lap, face pressed to Brady's neck and purring loudly; they're not tied together for too long, almost like Brady's body realizes Matt's already knocked up and doesn't need to keep them together for an extended amount of time any more.

Matt dozes off anyway, not rousing until he hears his phone and then Brady's go off almost in unison, and he groans at the interruption. "Do we have to move? Can't you reach one of the phones from here?"

"I'm not a secret mutant, so no," Brady tells him, not bothering to hide his laughter. "Come on, lazy, we can go cuddle in the bedroom after we check our phones."

Brady tries to move him, but Matt clings to Brady's shoulders, stubbornly refusing to move; they spent a lot of time fighting over just about everything growing up and Matt knows how to make himself impossible to move. "I see how it is, treat the father of your cub like this. I'm telling mom."

"Fine, asshole," Brady huffs, but he's shaking with silent laughter and his scent is still bright sunshine, so Matt knows he's not mad. "Can't even walk twenty feet, huh.

"I gotta do everything around here, I guess," Brady goes on and stands up, pulls Matt up with him and then gently slinging Matt over his shoulder in one smooth motion. "Let's get you to bed since you're so delicate right now," he adds with a couple friendly pats to Matt's ass as he heads down the hallway.

Matt doesn't say anything, just watches Brady's ass as he walks and briefly wonders if it's possible to have Brady carry him around everywhere for the next few months.

Brady drops him on the mattress, then turns and walks back the way they came before Matt can do more than huff in annoyance at him; he has the pillows and blankets arranged how he wants by the time Brady comes back with their phones. 

He mixes a couple of Brady's shirts in with the blankets to make everything smell more like him and refuses to feel embarrassed by it; apparently this was just going to be his life now and he thinks he should just lean into it for the foreseeable future. 

Brady doesn't say anything but his face goes soft and fond, and he smells like sunshine on coke; it makes Matt flush and want to preen at the same time, so he grabs his phone from Brady and points to a spot on the bed with a mock glare. "Sit there and don't fuck up my blankets." 

Brady grins but settles down where Matt told him to, along the outside of the bed on his stomach and goes through his notifications, occasionally making faces at whatever was there. 

It’s quiet for a few minutes, each of them steadily making their way through messages when Matt’s phone rings with a number he doesn’t recognize; he almost lets it go to voicemail on the off chance it’s a reporter, but decides it’s better to answer and find out who it is.

“Hello?”

“Matthew, it’s Jason Botterill, hello.”

"Oh, hello, sir."

Brady looks up from his phone with raised eyebrows at Matt when he hears 'sir'; Matt mouths 'Botterill' and Brady shifts closer to him, a warm, steady line of support along his side.

"I don't think the 'sir' is necessary," Botterill laughs easily and something about it makes Matt relax a little bit. "I just wanted to call and welcome you to the Sabres," he pauses for a second and then adds, "and ask you to pass it along to Brady, who I'm sure is right there."

It's said with the kind of sly humor of someone who knew alphas and their behavior patterns first hand; Matt doesn't know a lot about Botterill, if he was human or wolf or possibly both, but after a couple minutes of conversation, he thinks at the very least Botterill understands some wolf stuff better than Treliving did.

"I also wanted to talk to you about setting up some media and other things, check in to see when you guys were thinking about coming into Buffalo," Botterill goes on, his voice still friendly but clearly focused on business right now.

Matt leans into Brady, gets comfortable while he discusses the near future with their new GM.

*

It feels weird to be packing up his Calgary apartment in late August, to be sending all his stuff to their parents' house in St Louis until they get settled and find a place in Buffalo.

Matt hires a moving company to get the furniture and everything else that isn't flying with them to Buffalo, which means there's a lot of strangers in and out of the apartment the day they leave and it makes Brady antsy, glaring at every person that walks past him and hovering around Matt; they're human so Brady isn't growling or baring his teeth at them, and at this point, Matt thinks it's probably the best he can hope for. 

He locks up the apartment after everything's moved out, drops the keys off at the super's apartment and looks at the building for a few seconds before he gets in the car where Brady's waiting patiently for him.

Brady squeezes his knee but doesn't say anything as he puts the car in drive and pulls out of the parking space.

*

Eichs and Mittsy pick them up at the airport and Matt sees Brady's shoulders relax a little bit at the sight of two familiar omegas in a sea of people they don't know.

"Go help him with their stuff, rookie," Eichs tells Mittsy with a smirk once they're closer.

Mittsy rolls his eyes. "Dude thinks he can order us around now," he shakes his head mockingly but goes to help Brady.

He hesitates, clearly unsure what to grab because Brady is staggering around with both their gear bags, as well as a bookbag and duffel bag somehow strapped to his back and the look on Brady's face isn't friendly, despite the fact he knows neither one of them are trying to steal anything from him.

"Ah, I don't," Mittsy looks over his shoulder at Eichs, eyebrows raised, at a loss for what to do when faced with an exhausted, overprotective alpha.

Eichs takes stock of the situation quickly, before Matt has to jump in and coax Brady into being less of a knothead. "Go grab one of the carts over by the counter, Chucky can put everything on there and push it around without having the size of his knot questioned."

Brady looks torn between outrage and amusement, and Matt heaves a quiet sigh of relief when Brady grins at Eichs. "Be nice to me, I'm not at my best right now."

"When are you ever," Eichs snorts but it's the usual friendly disdain that he has for all the alphas he's friends with.

Mittsy runs into Eichs riding on the cart like a scooter and says "Sorry!" with the breezy attitude of someone who did something on purpose; there’s some shoving and Eichs playfully growls at Mittsy, who laughs unrepentantly in his face, but it only takes a few minutes to sort everything out and then Brady’s arranging everything on the cart the way he wants so they can leave the terminal and go to the cars.

“Congrats,” Mittsy says cheerfully as he holds open the door to the parking area for them. “You know, on being knocked up, not getting traded. What,” he says when Eichs looks skyward in disbelief. “Is it suppose to be secret? Anyone with a nose would be able to tell!”

“Most of us are polite enough to wait until it’s brought up first,” Eichs tells him dryly, but there’s no real annoyance to the words. “You know, in case they don’t want to talk about it.”

Matt rolls his eyes at the blank look Mittsy gives them and says, “Don’t worry about it, dude. Thanks.”

Brady preens at the words, obviously proud of himself and especially Matt for having a cub; Matt exchanges a knowing smirk with Eichs, but neither one of them say anything to him.

It’s quiet as they follow Eichs to the corner of the lot where two cars are parked together; he unlocks the SUV closest to the wall and pops open the trunk. “Go ahead, Chucky, knock yourself out.”

He turns to Mittsy while Brady unpacks the cart, points a finger at him and raises his eyebrows. "Go bring the cart back inside, then you and Dahls drive the rental over to the hotel and I swear to god, Mitts, if you guys fuck inside that car, you're going to be on puck detail for the rest of the year."

Mittsy blushes bright red, it goes sweet around the edges of his scent, all sugar against the cinnamon and apples that it usually is; it makes Matt look more closely at the person sitting in the front seat of the other vehicle that's parked close by.

Matt knows Dahlin, of course, knows he's an alpha and that he plays defense; he went first in Brady's draft year, so Matt met him a few times in the run-up to the actual draft, played him a few times since then, but it hadn't clicked until now that they would be on the same team.

"We're not, it was only the one time," Mittsy says, his voice steady in spite of being bright red still. "We're just friends," he adds almost defiantly, "just like me and Chucky."

"Uh-uh, keep me out of your bullshit," Brady tells him without looking up from where he was making sure everything was stacked exactly how he wanted. 

“You fucking my mate, Mitts?” Matt asks at the same time, just to be an asshole; Mittsy loses all his color and then glares at Matt when he starts snickering.

Eichs rolls his eyes again and shoves the now empty cart at Mittsy. "Dude, I don't care what the fuck you and Dahls are, just don't fuck in the rental, ok? Meet me at the hotel after."

Matt watches Mittsy obediently start dragging the cart back towards the airport doors, glancing back over his shoulder every few steps; Eichs goes to the driver side of the other car, leans in and talks to Dahlin for a minute, then steps back when Dahlin starts the car and backs up; he beeps at them and waves before he follows Mittsy.

“You guys missed the Skinny and Reino debacle last year,” Eichs tells them wryly as he comes back over; he sounds affectionately resigned about the whole thing, like he used to during international tournaments and games. 

You could fault Eichs for a lot, but he always watched out for the players on his teams, especially the other omegas, and Matt's pretty sure he knows everything that goes on because he's a nosy asshole _and_ feels responsible for everyone in his orbit. Once you really knew him, it was easy to see how he fits together with Davo who almost radiated responsibility with every step he took. 

"But you got here just in time for the Mittsy and Dahls circus," Eichs goes on with a small laugh. "The sheer amount of drama that goes on around here, I swear to god. Guys need to sort their shit out, what the fuck."

"Not everyone meets their mate and gets paired off before they're old enough to drink," Matt snorts and slides into the front seat when Eichs opens the door; he half turns to watch Brady and Eichs fight over who got to drive. 

"Please, like you weren't mated by the time you got to the NHL," Eichs scoffs and then points a finger at Brady who was standing by the driver's side door. "What are you doing, dude? I know you don't think I'm about to sit in the backseat of my own fucking car, especially when you have no clue where the hell you're going."

Brady opens his mouth and then closes it, before giving Eichs a beseeching look; it makes Eichs snort and wave him towards the back seat. "Get in the back, buddy."

Eichs face softens when Brady’s scent goes mildew around the edges at his words and touches his arm. "Hey, I'm not gonna pretend to know what dumb alpha instincts are going through your brain now, but I get it's hard for you to not be right next to Matty twenty-four seven, but you have no idea where you're going and you don't want to be driving in circles trying to figure it out. Get in the back and sit in the middle, you'll still be able to grab Matt if you need to."

Matt offers his wrist to Brady as soon as he's in the car and doesn't miss the way the muscles in his shoulders relax a little bit when his fingers touch Matt's skin; Eichs smiles a little bit when he sees it but doesn't say anything, just concentrates on getting them out of the parking garage and onto the highway.

"I'd have you guys stay at my house, but there's always a bunch of people in and out of there, and I didn't think it would be helpful to have Chucky growling at teammates before he even meets them properly," Eichs tells them with amusement and grins when he catches Brady rolling his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Sorry, buddy, but I’m willing to bet my right nut you’re being an even bigger knothead than normal.”

Matt snickers and Eichs fist pumps before he flicks a truimphant look over his shoulder at Brady as he merges over into the other lane. “Knew it.”

“Whatever, your boyfriend’s Canadian,” Brady tells him with a fake pout; his scent is steady again, the same dogwood and snow as always, something that’s always meant _home_ and _mine_ to Matt.

The rest of the ride goes by fast, the three of them chirping each other with the easy familiarity of having played on the same teams countless times; there's not a lot of traffic and it seems like it takes only a handful of minutes for them to get to the hotel and check in.

By the time they're done and upstairs in their room, all Matt wants is a nap and some food, in that exact order. He's five seconds from kicking Eichs out when he walks over to the door and stops to look at them for a long second.

"I'm not going to apologize for you guys being traded," Eichs finally says, tossing his keys from hand to hand while he talks. "We need you guys and I know we're close to being able to make the playoffs and finally do something, and we need you for that.

"It's shitty the way it happened and that I _am_ sorry for, but I think you'll do good here," Eichs tells them with a small smile and a shrug; he tosses his keys to Brady and gives Matt a quick hug. "Don't ruin my car, assholes, I expect it back once you guys get your own.

"Call me later and I'll hook you guys up with a realtor and all that happy shit," he adds over his shoulder as he leaves.

It's quiet for a minute and then Matt yawns loudly, kicking Brady's shin when he laughs at him.

"Come on, baby, nap time," Brady says as he picks Matt up and puts him over his shoulder, then goes through the doorway to the bed room and dumps him on the bed so he can get undressed. 

"I know how to walk," Matt complains; it's mostly for form, though, and he doesn't waste any time stripping down to his boxers, then crawling under the blankets and closing his eyes, already exhausted.

Brady just hums in agreement and it's only a few seconds before he curls up behind him, pulls Matt closer to tangle their legs together and drapes his arm over Matt's waist, places his hand on Matt's stomach.

He nuzzles Matt's neck, presses a kiss to his shoulder and settles down when Matt starts purring, loud even while half-asleep; Matt laces his fingers with Brady's and sighs happily when Brady lets out a happy growl.

**Author's Note:**

> I was a bit iffy on how to tag for the trades in the fic, but finally settled on the generic 'NHL Trades' and figured I could be more precise in the notes, so: Both Matt and Brady get traded to the Sabres, a couple of days after Matt finds out he's knocked up and tells GMBT (Flames GM), who then trades him to the Sabres and that prompts GMJB (Sabres GM) to call Ottawa to see if he could trade for Brady, too.
> 
> The trade isn't really gone into in great detail, but that's the gist of it.


End file.
